


everything is blueish

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, also laf is nonbinary but that's not the point lol, hercules doesn't have time for this, john has a crisis whoops, lafayette joins in eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 07:19:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11375301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Based off of a Tumblr post.John wants to describe the color red. Alex ruins everything not even a day later.





	everything is blueish

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of this post: 
> 
> http://quzinaker.tumblr.com/post/162252305357/person-a-sitting-in-the-corner-of-the

“How would you describe the color red?”

John liked to believe that it was a fairly innocent question in of itself. At first glance, it was among the ranks of asking why was the sky blue or how pink flamingos get their color. He didn’t think much of it, instead tapping insistently at his keyboard with the intent of actually getting a move on with his short story piece for his creative writing course. John was halfway towards his word count goal, but there was still so much more to tell, and the knowledge of his story’s incompletion was an unrelenting feeling that John just had to fulfill.

He realized in the silence that grew between his question and its eventual answer that this was how Alexander felt for the majority of his life. A sense of urgency, an ever-persistent sense of dissatisfaction, and now John was faced with it for only a moment compared to his boyfriend’s long-term battle from kindergarten onwards. John felt kind of sorry for him now.

“Yo, Alex?” John turned around in his swivel chair and began bouncing his leg against the carpet. Another beat passed, so he again called out, “Help me out here?”

The sound of shuffling footsteps presented themselves with the appearance of a disheveled Alexander Hamilton wearing only a bathrobe and a pair of bunny slippers. John coughed a few into his hand and hoped that Alex couldn’t separate a restrained laugh from a polite silence filler in all his after-midday-nap-but-before-midday-coffee glory. At least he was finally taking Herc’s advice to ten minute naps, which although were still making records at an average of two hours, were definitely going to help in the long run. John couldn’t help but smile at that; he loved it when Alex made the effort to take better care for himself.

“What’s up?” Alex mumbled, rubbing at his eyes and stretching his arms. John was pretty sure the bathrobe and bunny slippers were seriously the _only_ two items he was wearing. He wasn’t going to complain though.

John cleared his throat and repeated the question. “How would you describe red?”

“What for?”

“My short story. For the writing class with the Jefferson guy I told you about.”

Alex scowled. “That purple prose son of a—”

“Okay, Alex, we are not going there. Just… how would you do it? Nothing seems to be working.” John stared pointedly at his computer screen where his cursor blinked next to a half-written description of Maria Reynolds, the main character of his short story.

“Fine, fine. Erm… okay, you can’t really _describe_ color, but use a different word if you want a specific shade?” Alex shrugged and walked over next to John in order to peer down onto the document. “Crimson or scarlet. Burgundy.”

“Well, I know that,” John frowned, resting his head on Alexander’s side. “I was just hoping there was a lengthier way to do it. I need to up my word count, and turning in your work as my own is still called plagiarism, Alexander.”

“That was one time, and I was just trying to help,” Alex grumbled as he snaked an arm around John’s shoulders, who then snuggled into Alex’s bathrobe. “You should just move on and continue with the plot. It’s a short story, there are more things to describe than, what, clothes or surroundings. Characterization and plot is way more important.”

“Agh, I know. I’ll just take a break for a bit and rest.”

“In the middle of a sentence?” The incredulous, completely unbelieving tone in Alex’s voice managed to coax out an adoring sigh from John.

“Not everyone can write in one sitting like you, babe,” he rolled his eyes teasingly and stood up from the chair. John pressed a kiss to Alex’s cheek and began to walk out the study. “Do we still have Fruit Loops?”

“... Aw, shit.”

 

* * *

 

As John was on his way to grab his keys from the basket on the kitchen counter, his mind reeled back to a snippet from his and Alex’s conversation from the day before. He was able to wrap up “The Reynolds Pamphlet” before the end of the evening with his boyfriend’s help, but Alex had offered an interesting piece of information hidden in his advice.

“Hey,” he started off, pausing as Alex looked up from a bowl of freshly bought Fruit Loops. “What did you mean when you can’t really describe color?”

Alex rose an eyebrow and proceeded to scoop a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “You can’t,” he replied, though the words were a bit garbled under a continuous _crunch crunch crunch_. “That’s it. You can’t describe color.”

“But… there’s gotta be a way to somehow?” John pushed cautiously. “Like, uh. Green as grass.”

“That’s just using color to describe something else.”

Oh. “Well, blue is cold. Yeah?”

Alex just shook his head. “That’s just associating color with feeling. I just realized you could have done that in your story too. Guess it’s too late.”

John stared blankly towards the wall behind Alexander. There had to be a way to describe color. How did humanity progress so far but was yet to be able to describe what had existed for eons like _color_? “Yellow is bright.”

“Nope.”

“Brown is muddy! It’s earthy!”

“Don’t think that works.”

John gawked. He gripped at the edge of the counter, tugged at his hair, and positively gawked like a kid in a candy store. “No. _No_ , Alexander that can’t be true.” Color was literally everywhere—someone, some time in history, had to have figured out a way to accurately describe color without associating it with an object or a feeling. Except for Homer and his wine-dark sea. Homer was an outlier and should never be included. “I am not going to accept this.”

“Well, the nature of color is to just visualize it. It’s not something you’d really stop and think about since it’s just… there.” Alex finished the last of his cereal and started to slurp the remaining milk in the bowl. “Just something you’re now gonna have to live with, Jacky.”

Nope. Nope nope nope nope nope nopity nope. He had to call Lafayette. John needed moral support.

 

* * *

 

“ _Que veux-tu dire!?_ ” Lafayette squawked. “You can obviously describe color!”

John just rocked gently in his corner, mumbling something about how nothing was real and how language was a scam. Alex looked over at him with a faintly concerned expression and continued to comfortingly pet his head of curls. He once had been the same, back in seventh grade when the realization punched him in the face and left him with an existential crisis for the rest of the year. His boyfriend was too good for this.

“You can’t,” gasped John, curling further into himself. “Laf, you just can’t.”

“You can,” Lafayette retaliated. There was a fire in his eyes, roaring with a mixture passion and determination. Alex was painfully reminded of himself—not because he was the naive protagonist in a hero’s journey, but because Lafayette wanted to fight in a losing game. Now, Alex was never wrong, like ever. It was just that sometimes he didn’t win. Because some people were ignorant cretins.

“Alexander, tell your boyfriend that you can describe color.”

“I—you, but—you can’t!” Alex sputtered, waving his hands helplessly like _what do you want me to do?_

“You can,” the French person repeated. Lafayette stepped forwards and dropped into that superhero stance you see on movie posters. Alex wished they had a cape billowing behind them. That would make the situation a whole lot funnier.

 

* * *

 

“So Laf and John are in the corner because…?”

“They just figured out you can’t actually describe color,” Alex finished.

Hercules crossed his arms and surveyed the room. Lafayette and John huddled together like penguins in a storm, murmuring words of comfort towards each other while Alex sat on the couch eating popcorn and humming along to Auli'i Cravalho’s “How Far I’ll Go” on the TV.

“I’ll make some more popcorn,” Hercules decided after a moment. He really did not want to question the situation any further.

Alex looked up and nodded. “Mmhm. Good idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> i've actually wanted to write something for this prompt for a very long time, so here it is <3 i'm thinking that i'll make a series out of tumblr textposts and incorrect quotes because oooooh boy i got some ideas O:
> 
> feedback would be very appreciated! *hoards kudos and comments*


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